Delusions of Grandeur
by RiddleKitty
Summary: Psyphon tries to make it big on his own, by starting small.


**Disclaimer: **I own nothing from the show.

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**Delusions of Grandeur **

It seemed like a good idea.

He had no one to serve, now that Vilgax had fallen. So why not serve himself?

Surely with all his knowledge of weaponry and tech, all the secondhand knowledge of military strategy provided to him by the mighty Vilgax himself, it would be easy to rise up through the criminal ranks and become legendary. Perhaps, even become the most feared name in the galaxy.

Yes...

Psyphon, the conqueror.

No, no. That had already been done to death.

Psyphon, the destroyer.

Psyphon, the _annihilator_.

Well, "conqueror" did have a nicer ring to it. Perhaps something added after it would give it that much needed "zing."

Psyphon, conqueror... of the _universe_.

Yes. That had an awfully nice ring to it.

Psyphon, conqueror of the universe. All would tremble before his ruthlessness. All would bow down before his superiority and cunning. All would hail to the name _Psyphon_.

All would—do his laundry, so he didn't have to waste his precious time on such menial tasks.

"Gah. Accursed stain! What _are_ you?"

Psyphon vigorously rubbed the anti-stain stick across the odd blue spot that had blemished his once immaculate attire.

With an angry sigh, he dropped the useless stick and looked at his surroundings. Here he was, trapped within a stuffy little Undertown laundromat, surrounded by the overpowering fumes of flowery detergents, elbow-to-elbow with a bunch of miserable nobodies as they went about their mundane lives. Nobodies with hideous fashion sense.

If he was ever going to climb to the top of a criminal empire, he had to get out of this rut. Try as he might, he just couldn't think of a decent scheme to get off the ground and establish himself. Psyphon sighed, his thoughts drifting to the past. Vilgax always came up with the best evil schemes. So destructive and chaotic. So vicious. So... _fun_.

No, he had to stop thinking about Vilgax.

Vilgax was gone. Probably for good. Out of the picture. Out of _his _picture. He had to start thinking about himself. Himself, and his assured potential as a criminal mastermind.

"I can't go on thinking of myself as servant," he muttered, placing his head in his hands. "I have to think of myself as... a leader. Yes, I have to think positively. Of course I can make it on my own!"

If he was to be a competent and feared criminal leader, however, he'd need to come up with an elaborate and well-executed diabolical plan of some sort. Also, he'd probably need some dumb muscle to back him up. And that meant he'd need additional funds for paying salaries. So much work. _Ugh_. What would Vilgax do?

Psyphon groaned and shook his head. "No, no. No Vilgax!" Behind him, someone had put too much soap flakes into a washer and left it unattended. Pink suds flowed out and onto the floor as other aliens in the vicinity grumbled and tried not to slip in the mess. "Come on, think. Surely, I, with all my wit and resourcefulness, can come up with one unique, sinister plan of criminality that will blow everyone away."

The doors flung open with an unusually forceful motion, causing the bell overhead to dingle loudly. Two unfriendly looking aliens entered, one helmeted and wearing a gas-filled containment suit, the other very bird-like in appearance. Chicken-like, to be more specific.

"Okay, everybody. Listen up! Put your various hands, tentacles and flippers in the air, nice and easy-like. We're gonna start collecting wallets and purses, and—WHOOOAAH!"

The helmeted alien, who had walked obviously into the leaking soap suds, skidded several feet before falling to the ground with a loud crash. The chicken alien managed to avoid the same fate, but appeared confused as to how to proceed after the embarrassing incident. His head twitched and turned in an appropriately bird-like manner.

"Uh... you heard him! Put your valuables— ba-ba-bawk!—where we can see 'em, or there'll be trouble!" The chicken man's voice did not match his musclebound appearance.

The laundromat patrons, though startled by the sudden menacing intrusion, did not look all that intimidated by the pair of crooks. As the bubble-helmeted alien got back to his feet, his partner walked through the row of washers and confused customers, toward Psyphon. He pulled a large gun out of a holster slung on his back and held it for everyone to see.

"Now, I'll only say it one more time, ba-gawk! Give us your valuables, or..." The chicken alien made eye contact with Psyphon, who couldn't help but look annoyed at the duo's incompetence. He made the mistake of reaching for Psyphon and grabbing him. "Maybe you need a demonstration of what's going to happen if you don't." He put the weapon to the side of Psyphon's head. Psyphon only glowered.

"Fool! You have no idea how to properly initiate a robbery, do you?" Psyphon said dryly, merely brushing the gun away from him.

The chicken alien's beak dropped open at his hostage's audacity. "Ba-ba-buh-_gawk!_ Hey, just who are you, pal?" His grip on the gun tightened and a snarl formed on his beak.

"For starters," Psyphon said, quickly grabbing the chicken alien's arm as he attempted to fire. Psyphon twisted it, causing the crook to squawk in pain and let go of the gun, which fell into Psyphon's waiting hand. "I'm someone who actually _knows _how to use this weapon."

Psyphon finished the crook with an elbow to the gut, bringing him to his knees with another loud bawking noise. He looked the weapon over, vaguely interested in learning how the pair of inept individuals had come across such a thing. He hadn't seen a M61 Sergiolean Blaster in ages.

"You had the safety on," Psyphon said with a wicked grin, as he took the safety _off._

The gun made a sharp beeping sound and began to hum as several pieces of metal slid into different positions, revealing red lights. Psyphon pointed the gun at the startled chicken alien, who immediately raised his clawed hands in the air. The laundromat patrons began to applaud their vigilante savior.

"And secondly," the alien customers abruptly stopped their applause and raised their appendages once Psyphon turned the weapon on them, "I'm someone who's had a _lot _more experience with intimidating people... than you."

He fired, blowing a hole clean through the wall. Everyone in the vicinity flinched and ducked, including the two bumbling crooks.

"Now," he addressed the worried looking group. "If you'll all place your valuables into that empty laundry bag over there... you might live to see tomorrow."

Within the span of a few dozen seconds the bag became filled with wallets, purses, random pieces of jewelry, wads of crumpled bills, coins, watches, and one package of Mrs. Newman's Gourmet Chocolate Chunk cookies. The laundry patrons backed away from the bag and resumed cowering with their various limbs raised and trembling.

"Whoa. This guy's good," the bubble-helmeted alien remarked to his partner.

"Indeed," Psyphon said to himself, looking thoughtful. He hadn't lost his touch after all. His red eyes went to the bubble-helmeted alien and his birdish companion. Psyphon pointed a clawed finger at them "You two. Pick up that bag and come with me," he said, his eyes darting toward the hole in the wall as the sound of commotion from outside grew near. The authorities would surely be coming to investigate. "That is, if you want to learn how to do a _real _crime."

With that, Psyphon disappeared through the hole in the wall. Seconds later, he popped his head back in.

"Oh, and bring that basket over there on the washing machine with you."

The two crooks glanced at each other, then grabbed the bag and the basket and chased after Psyphon.

"Hey, wait for us!" the bubble-helmeted alien called.

The trio fled to the abandoned subway tunnels, where Psyphon had set himself up a secluded little base of operations. Inside one of the buildings, the bubble-helmeted alien let the bag full of loot fall to the floor in front of his feet. He reached down and pulled out two metal clawfuls of cash wads. The Sergiolean Blaster sat on a nearby table, Psyphon standing close by.

"Heh! All right! Look at this haul! I knew robbin' that laundromat'd pay off."

"Chicken feed," Psyphon said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he passed by the bird man,"if you'll pardon the expression." He clasped his hands behind his back, walking away from the pair to the window, where he had an extended view of the balcony overlooking the tunnels. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced."

The bubble-helmeted alien paused while looking over the long set of family photos contained within one stolen wallet. "Eh, my name's not really pronounceable to anyone outside my species. Just call me Bubble Helmet."

The chicken alien stepped forward and clucked. "Liam."

Psyphon's lower lip twitched in thought. He turned around and looked the pair over with more scrutiny. "Wait a minute... Why do I have the feeling I've met you before?"

Bubble Helmet and Liam paused to stare at Psyphon, then each other, then Psyphon again.

Bubble Helmet shook his head. "Uuuuuuuh, I don't remember _you_."

Liam clucked again. "Me either. So who are you, then?"

Psyphon placed one hand against his chest. "I am Psyphon." The name got no response from the pair in front of him. One eye widened. "Psyphon? Herald of Vilgax? Assisted him in the conquering of ten worlds? That Psyphon!" He waved his arms. "Doesn't ring any bells?!"

"Uh uh," said Bubble Head. Beside him, Liam shrugged, cocking his head to one side.

Psyphon threw up his hands. "We met in the Null Void! I helped you buffoons escape!"

Bubble Helmet flinched, dropping the Taydenite necklace he held within his claws. "Uagh! The Null Void?! No wonder I don't remember nothin' about you. I _repressed_ all my memories of that place!" He shuddered.

"Psyphon, eh? Now that I think about it, you do look kinda familiar," said Liam, staring at Psyphon with his beady black eyes. "Ba-ba-baaawk! I guess we owe you another one then, for helping us knock over that laundry mat."

"_Helping _you?" Psyphon frowned.

Liam walked up to Psyphon, oblivious of the irritation on his face. "So, what's next on the schedule then? Buck-buck-buck-buck—Boss?"

Psyphon instantly brightened back up, a wicked smile coming over him. "_Boss_... yes. I like the sound of that." He clenched his fists in excitement. "Boys! It's the beginning of the opportunity of a lifetime. Inside my brilliant mind, the scheme of the century is being concocted. But, I'm going to need a lot more muscle." He gestured at his current minions. "That's where you two come in."

Liam saluted dutifully. "Anything you need, Boss."

"I need you two to tell all your friends and associates that I'm hiring."

"Sure thing, Boss," Liam said.

"Yeah, no problem. There's a bunch of us ex-cons right here in Undertown," said Bubble Helmet.

"Good. Then round them up for me. And don't get yourselves _caught _by the local authorities before you do."

Psyphon watched the two head back toward Undertown. He wrung his hands in anticipation. Everything had seemingly fallen into place. Now, to keep it moving in the right direction. He took a seat at the table, picked up a pencil and swept his hand over a piece of paper, forming sketchy blueprints.

"Yes! This is excellent!" Psyphon said, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He felt a vigor like none he'd felt in years. "No longer a servant... Now _I_ am Master. And it feels so good!"


End file.
